


Short Stories From "The Door"

by TopazShadowwolf



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Death, F/M, I like to think we all have an inner Alphys, The Door short stories, This will just be short stories tied to my main story, Violence, burning violence, kissy talk, more to come - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-09-17 12:52:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9324461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TopazShadowwolf/pseuds/TopazShadowwolf
Summary: There are time I cut out things, or think about scenes that are mentioned in my story "The Door." These don't add anything to the over all story, but are interesting. Here is where I will post them when I get around to writing them.





	1. Flowey Meets Trash

**Author's Note:**

> Right after I wrote the intro for chapter 5 I wrote this. This shows what happened in the perspective of Flowey. I knew it wouldn’t really add anything to the story I want to tell with The Door, but figured it might be interesting for those who wanted to know what happened.

The first time he saw it, it sickened him. Watching the lazy, no-good, trash bag of bones talking to his mother. Laughing with his mother. Making HIS mother happy. The skeleton had no right to be entertaining her. He’d seen that useless slob day to day. So far he hadn’t cared to toy with the comedian as it already seemed broken. But now, Flowey had reason.

He wasn’t jealous, he didn’t even remember what jealousy felt like. Even before he was a soulless, emotionless flower, he wasn’t one for getting jealous. Nor, would he say he is angry. Anger is an emotion he can mimic, but not feel. It was just a matter of principle. He had an idea of how the world, **his world** , should be. And in that world, trash does not hang around his mother.

So, he decided to toy with the skeleton. He loaded the world to before the skeleton arrived and broke the bridge to the door. Yet, the skeleton still arrived. How? How was that possible?! And to make matters even more confusing, the waste dump didn’t notice the bridge was out until **after** telling jokes to his mother. On the walk back! HOW?!

Load

This time he was going to confront the skeleton, when he noticed something changed. He watched skeleton stand before the door then turned its back to it and sat. It didn’t knock. It was as if the bonehead already knew Mother wouldn’t be there. How?

This…

This was new. He liked new; new is entertaining.

He let the scene play out. He let them tell jokes.

The skeleton sounded different. Looked different. Acted different. The jovialness from before was gone. Some of the jokes it told changed and it seemed to relish in his mother’s different reactions. Did the skeleton remember what happened in the last load?

Interesting.

Load.

Watch.

Load.

Watch.

Each time the skeleton seemed more upset, and was remembering more of what had been said. This was beyond Flowey’s understand of his powers, but he didn’t care to find out since this was getting dull. The trash still needed to learn a lesson; and the best news is, it will be one the skeleton will remember even if the damage is repaired.

 

* * *

 

Flowey loaded from an earlier save and sat in wait outside of his mother’s house. It will be simple. Playing the “I’m your long dead son” card was always good for lowering her guard. Then one well placed vine ought to… He sighed. No, he wasn’t ready to kill her yet. He had originally planned to save his mother and father for last, and there are still so many other monsters left he hasn’t killed.

Again, it was the principle of the matter. It wasn’t any child like affection for his parents that caused him the spare them. It was the fact that killing them will be the final piece. The final declaration that Flowey is Flowey, and not that weak Asriel. His ex-parents should be his crowning achievement. Thus, no, not even to prove a point to the trash heap, he won't deviate from that plan.

Using a vine he petted a petal thoughtfully before slipping underground. There are enough whimsums and other useless monsters in the ruins that he could gather dust from; he could make it seem like his mother. After all. It’s not like the town dump would know the difference.

Gathering up the dust wasn’t that difficult, and he kept it in a coil of vines. Part one of his plan complete, he saved and started back to the door. Using his free vines he caused the roof of the pathway to collapse. Now his mother will show up and ruin everything.

The skeleton was already there. Excellent.

The skeleton waited, so did Flowey.

The skeleton did a countdown with its fingers. Flowey grinned and prepared.

Now.

“Knock, knock” Flowey imitated his mother’s voice.

“Who’s there?” The skeleton dared.

Easing up on the coils, he shook the cocoon of vines around the gathered dust. The contents started to drift down onto the skeleton below in a morbid elegance. The skeleton extending a hand and caught some on its mitten. A look of confusion was on its face, followed by realization.

Oh, the startled expression when it finally looked up. The eye sockets were dark, not a single speck of light was present. And yet Flowey relished the shock. He hadn’t noticed he was laughing until this moment, and he twisted his face and widened his grin, “You’re best nightmare!”

The skeleton didn’t move. How dull. Oh well. A vine extended out to strike the scum and finish this. But he didn’t make contact with bone, but the door. The skeleton had dodged, and surprisingly fast for someone so lethargic.

“so, it’s you,” The skeleton said, putting its hands in its jacket pockets.

Flowey tried attacking again, and again the skeleton seemed to be too agile for him to hit. If he could feel, he would either find this annoying or funny. Instead. Well. This was happening. Interesting.

“you’re the one messing with time,” it continued.

“Yes, well, normally no one remembers,” Flowey said, attacking and missing again, “So why can you?”

How frustrating, the skeleton just shrugs and gives a noncommitted, “no clue,” as an answer.

‘Of course he has a clue. It is clear he is not as dumb as he appears. He might not know for sure, but he would have a hunch,’ Flowey thought to himself. The skeleton might not have peaked his interest before as a toy, but he didn’t fail to notice it in Alphys’s lab. The two were talking about some science stuff that was well over Flowey’s understanding. So, for a useless skeleton, it isn’t dumb. But getting an answer was not the purpose for this activity.

“Whatever! Just stay away from her!”

“why? what’s she to you that i have to stay away?”

“Shut up and just stay away!” Okay, now he was getting annoyed. It was an emotionless annoyed but still, it was annoyance he was feeling. No, feeling isn’t the right word, feeling means he can feel emotions. Experiencing. He was experiencing annoyance, because every attack the skeleton dodged. EVERY ATTACK!  And the trash bag seemed to be relaxing even more as they talked.

“you know what i find interesting?” The skeleton grinned. HE GRINNED!!! HOW DARE HE! Flowey has the power of reset. In this world he might as well be a god! And this refuse has the gall to grin at him?!

“you’re protective of her and yet you killed her? that’s odd, don’t you think. of course, you could just loop time back to when you didn’t kill her. still seems like a double standard.”

“Just shut up and die!”

“naw,” its left eye started to flash from yellow to cyan, “think i’ll just _plant_ ya instead…” The skeleton extending his left hand toward Flowey then looked surprised, “No soul?”

Flowey tried using this moment and attacked with pellets only to watch the skeleton disappear. He turned to find his prey when bones jutted out of the door he was currently hanging from and broke his connection to his roots. Falling, flowey found himself shocked to feel a slow radiating pain from his stem. It was like he was poisoned, and it was unlike anything he had ever felt from an attack before.

Interesting...

As he fell, he knew he had to plan for what to do next. As a stem he will die, so he needs to graft himself to the roots under the snow. Flowey had spread his root system throughout the entire underground. All he needs to do is reconnect then he should be good. Looking down, ready to act, he saw bones erupt from the snow below him.

The bone attacks themselves didn’t do much damage, except they did. It was a slow agonizing death as the longer he was touching them the more damage it did. There wasn’t that moment of invincibility that occurs with all other magic attacks. And the bones didn’t disappear when he touched them, like most bullets either. Plus there there was the underlying radiating pain also slowly sapping life from him.

“karma’s a _birch_ , huh?” He could hear the skeleton say, “maybe _thistle_ make you think twice before murdering people. though, i doubt it.”

Flowey, unable to move from the bones, finally died.

Well crap. He’s not quite ready for that one yet. He’ll find some new toys in the meantime. Maybe find some that are more of a challenge to increase his skills. Until then, not much he can do other than make the depressed lump even more depressed. But there are only so many times even he is willing to load to the same point.

Load.


	2. Open Your Mouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toriel wonders if Sans can open his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was inspired by me nearly throwing up the other morning while brushing my teeth. I hate it when I go over my tongue and set off my gag reflex. Anyway, it set off a chain of thoughts and then my hand slipped… a lot. This fits in nicely between chapter 7 and 8...

“are you sick?” She heard Sans ask.

Toriel was leaning over the sink, gagging, and trying her best to not throw up. Rarely Sans is up this early, so she jumped upon hearing his voice. The startle seemed to help and she leaned back.

“I’m alright, just brushed too far back on my tongue,” she replied while shaking her head.

The look of confusion on his face was comical, to say the least. She turned toward him, “I tickled my gag reflex.”

“oh,” he replied, though it didn't sound like he fully understood.

“Do you not have one?” She asked.

“a gag reflex? i got one,” he chuckled lightly, then said in a fond manner, “pap’s cooking proved that.”

“But you’ve never set it off by brushing your teeth?”

He shook his head ‘no.’ She sighed, rinsing off her brush, “lucky. I thought you would have set it off, at least once, while brushing the inside of your mouth.”

That is where she thought this conversation was going to end, but instead she heard, “i’ve never had a need to.”

Confused, she turned back to him, wanting to clarify what she just heard, “what do you mean?”

“i mean what i said, i’ve never had a need to brush the inside of my mouth,” he said with a shrug.

“But, you eat and drink,” she was shocked at what he was saying.

“well, yeah, but I never open my mouth to do that,” he shrugged. When she failed to reply he continued, “technically speaking, i don't even need to brush the outside of my mouth, but it is habit now. pap would’ve found some way to have a hernia if i didn’t.”

“But, how?”

Again, he looked confused, “you’ve seen me eat tori, I don’t open my mouth to bite the food. i convert it to magic before it touches my teeth and draw it in. less hassle since i won't need to chew that way. the magic still has the flavor, but none of the bacteria or coating nature that food does.”

Toriel palmed her face, leave it to him to find a way to be lazy about eating. But that sparked a new question. She has never seen him open his mouth to talk, he doesn't open it to eat, and he apparently doesn't open it to brush his teeth. “Can you open your mouth?”

He shrugged.

“You don’t know?”

“well, paps could. so, in theory, as his brother, I should be able to,” he then shrugged again, “just never had the need to.”

She could not believe what she was hearing, “in theory.”

“if you think of this as like the schrodinger's cat experiment, currently my mouth can and cannot open at the same time right now,” he chuckled.

Shaking her head, she tried not to laugh, “Sans, open your mouth.”

“What? Why?”

“I want to see.”

He gave her a defiant look, “no, besides there is nothing to see. it's not like i have a tongue or any of that other weird stuff you more squishy monsters have.”

Toriel bit her bottom lip to hold back on laughing at his reaction. “I want to see,” she said, trying again, “if you can open your mouth.”

Sans was quiet for a moment, still wearing a defiant look on his face. She noticed his hands tried to move further into his jacket pockets. Perhaps she was being unfair. Maybe there is a reason he doesn't want to open his mouth. As to what that reason could be, she hadn’t the slightest.

With a sigh, she gave in, “alright, I won't make you open your mouth.” With that, she put her tooth brush away and grabbed a brush to start on her fur.

“thanks,” that really should have been the end of it, but Sans just had to get the last word. “besides, you can't  **make** me open my mouth.”

“What do you mean?” She said, looking at him through the mirror.

“i mean, you can’t  **make** me open my mouth. you could try forcing my mouth open, though i doubt you’d do that.” He shrugged, “but that would be you opening my mouth.”

“Really?” Well, he was right about the latter point. She was not about to try prying his mouth open in case there is a reason he can’t open it. She wouldn't want to hurt him. “You really don't think I could find a way to make  **you** open your mouth?”

As she watched him in the mirror, for a second doubt crossed his expression, but he adamantly said, “I don’t believe you can.”

Toriel finished brushing out her ears in silence before calmly setting the brush down. Was she really going to do this? She looked at Sans through the mirror again, and he was looking back at her the same way. She smiled as a slight hint of blue appeared on his cheek bones.

As she looked back at herself she went over the potential results of trying her idea. Worst case scenario, he runs away for for a day or two; week at most. Though she doubts he would do that, he is more inclined to avoid a situation that makes him feel uncomfortable; therefore, it is still a possibility. Best case, well, thinking about that actually made her blush slightly. She was happy her fur hid most of it, but she could see a little over her nose where the fur is thinner.

This idea was mean, manipulative. But he did challenge her. By no means was she like Undyne, willing to accept any challenge, even vague made up ones. She wasn't that competitive, but Toriel still was not the kind of monster to back down from a challenge.

Turning her body to face him, Toriel slowly closed the gap between them. “You wouldn't open your mouth to kiss?”

The blush of magic already on his face deepened and spread. Sans looked away, “we’ve kissed before, and it has never required opened mouths.”

“Oh, my dear love,” Toriel placed a paw by his cheek and under his chin. She then gently angled his head to get him to look at her again. Nearly his entire skull was blue as she cupped her other paw on the other side of his face. “Have you never heard of a deep, or French, kiss?”

“heh,” Sans’s eyelights were looking a little fuzzy around the edges, unlike the normal crisp circles. “yeah,” he said slowly, “but it, uh, always, y’know…”

“Hmmm,” she pretended to think on that. Inwardly she was calling herself evil for turning him into such a flustered mess. “Pretend that I don't.”

Toriel looked at his smile, which seemed to be confused about what shape it wanted to be. With how much she already loved him, compounded with how endearing he was behaving, she really wanted to kiss him right now. Just maybe not in the way she was teasing him, as she was sure his soul was under enough stress from all of this. 

He made a sound, as if clearing his throat, “s-sounded weird?”

Toriel felt her nose crinkle as she tried not to laugh. She wanted to call him ‘Sansy’, but that has proved to be like nails on a chalkboard to him. Using her thumb, she petted the space right under his left eye socket. “Perhaps, to less ‘squishy monsters’, such as yourself, it would be easy to make such a hypothesis. But I assure you,” she leaned in closer and felt a shiver travel through him, “when done right, it can be very enjoyable.” 

Shortly after finishing that, Sans’s eye lights fizzle out and she felt him start to slide through her paws, “Sans?” She quickly grabbed him up before he could fall to the floor. Holding him out, she looked him over. He was silent and still, but otherwise alright. 

“Oh… oh dear,” she bit her lip again as she held him closer to herself, “I think you fainted.” She shifted him to support him on her hip and with one hand, freeing the right to put to her mouth.

Shaking her head she started toward the sitting room, “Toriel, that was horrible of you!” She then looked at him, his skull against her shoulder. “Oh, Sans, I haven't done anything like that since before I married Asgore. Back then, I was rather free spirited and was quite the flirt. Though it never went passed kissing.”

In this position, it would be difficult to kiss him on the mouth. Besides, for that she should wait for him to be awake. Lowering her head, she kissed him above the eye socket before setting him down on the sofa. She grabbed the blanket she made for him and covered him up.

Looking down at him, lovingly, she sighed. Again, she covered her mouth with her right paw, “in your own time. Till then, I’ll think of some way to make this up to you.”


	3. Grillby's Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **WARNING:** Grillby is a fire elemental, so when he fights he will most likely burn what he fights. Because of that, this is a little more graphic in nature than what I normally write. _PLEASE_ consider that before reading. I think I’ve read and seen worse in teen movies/books, but if this seems a bit much, let me know, I will bump the rating up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a short story requested by 7flyingpancakes7 on AO3, and it was interesting to write. While working on The Door, I spent time over thinking some of the characters and their past. I have well over thought Grillby and Toriel, and would like to eventually write their stories. We’ll see. Anyway, some of you have also found my Grillby to be interesting and curious about him, so here’s a small taste of what it would be like reading a story about him.

Battle training varied throughout the day based on location and occupation. Some monsters are required to be there in the early morning, mostly shopkeepers, others late at night. Grillby, being a restaurant owner, was expected to show up in the morning. And, much to his chagrin, he somehow became the leader of his group. Dogamy and Dogaressa were supposed to lead, but they turned the position over to him on the first day.

The first ever “leader training” session was going to begin today, and should repeat every first week of the month. This was not something Grillby was looking forward to. As much as he disliked leading a group, it didn’t really require him using his magic in an offensive, or defensive, way. It only required that he instructed the others, and have Dogamy and Dogaressa do demonstrations. It was clear, most of the monsters in his group didn’t really want to see him try. For this, there will be other leaders there, and each will be expected to show what they can do. Grillby wasn’t sure what he could do, anymore.

The other thing he wasn’t looking forward to about this meeting, was that it was in Waterfall. Granted, Grillby is a strong enough fire elemental that a little “rain” wouldn’t hurt him, but that doesn't mean it's not uncomfortable. It messes with his flames, causes them to sizzle and produce steam. And where there is a lot of “rain” it often results in his flames lowering if he doesn’t protect himself.

For this first meeting, he gets out his old raincoat and umbrella, and sets out earlier. These tools left him feeling smothered, but at least it was better than having messed up flames that have been cooled and not as tall as they once were. He could skip the “rain” altogether if he took the ferry, but there is no way he is getting on that thing; the river is one place he will avoid at all costs. Drops of water is one thing, total submersion is another. Thus, he must walk the whole way. He should at least be thankful it is not in Hotlands…

As comfortable that place is, temperature wise, it caused too many bad memories which is why he moved to Snowdin.

Once he arrived, he was happy to see the cave the training will occur in is dry. Places like this are rare in swamp land, and he was happy someone found it. Taking off his coat, it felt good to let his flames be free again. He was the first one to arrive, naturally, so he had time to prepare. He had planned it out that way, not only because he hates being late but he wanted to get a feel for his magic in an area that would be safer than Snowdin or its surrounding forest.

It had been a long time since he used his magic for something other than cooking or warming monsters lost in the snow. And there is a difference, a vast difference. There are different emotions, sensations, and intensities. Grillby never burned food with his magic, but he did burn his enemies, often beyond recognition. After some meditation, he started to call it up, remembering the feel of his flames in the heat of battle.

_ Heat _ of battle...

Grillby snorted, Sans and Toriel would have liked that. Both of those two are a bad influence on his sense of humor.

Adjusting his glasses, Grillby again tried to focus. He remembers the surface, the feel of the wind playing with his flames. The battlefields, covered in morning dew and rich with the smell of fear and anticipation. Sounds of battle cries, the rumble of hooves and feet as the opposition charged. His core thrummed like a heartbeat, building in pace as the imagined enemy approached. And then he felt it, his own magic.

Fire, hot beyond hot, reaching, spreading, burning everything it touches, destroying everything in sight. He remembered the power he had possessed, the weapon he had become. A tool for to gain power while striping it away from others without mercy, without care. Without any consideration to what it was doing to him. Only a few ever remembered he was living, and those who didn’t never started out that way. But once they had a taste of what he could do, they abused their contract, and some paid for that…

Memories drifted into darker and darker areas of his mind, the places he no longer wishes to dwell. And yet they were connected, all interconnected. He can’t remember how the battles felt without the horrors. They caused his core to shake as he remembered the feel of burning, blistering, and cracking skin. The feel of monsters dusting in his unyielding grasp. Memories of screams, begging, and the stench of boiling blood filled his mind. The sensation of someone trashing around in his grasp until they just… stopped.

He had kill so many, so many in the name of another. Human and monster.

He was a weapon, that’s all anyone ever considered him. That’s all he will ever be. Anyone who summons him will know this and abuse his magic. They won’t care how wounded he already is, or how hurt he will become, they never do.

“Grillby?”

Grillby? A name. HIS name. A name he gave himself to never again be used to kill. To declare himself free of the endless slavery that elementals go through. To be free from being a thing, and finally be a living creature.

What a silly dream that was.

As long as he answers to any ruler, he will always be a weapon.

“Grillby, are you alright?”

The elemental returned to the here and now and noticed his flames were out of control. They were reaching out, like plant roots, in wild displays of orange. But unlike plants, these roots destroy. He was here, in Waterfall, not on a battlefield, he was safe, there was no one to hurt, no one to kill. Calming down, the flames returned to him, leaving burnt plants and charred earth and stone. Looking over he matched the voice with the face of an old friend. He wanted to speak, but his fire was still hot and using up most of the oxygen around him, that he required to speak. Instead he offered two pops of his flames, as a ‘yes,’ to let the old turtle know he heard.

“What are you doing here?” Gerson asked, then sighed, “Silly question. Grillby, go home, you’ve seen enough of this.”

“..................................but……………………,” Grillby tried to protest.

“Go home, I’m supposed to be leading this meeting anyway. Once it’s done, I’m going to go speak with Undyne. I’ve let this go on, long enough,” Gerson set his hammer down and helped Grillby get his coat on. It frustrated Grillby that he was shaking, as if he had a body that was more physical and prone to trembling. He felt so utterly useless and spent.

Grillby made the walk back home. He knew in a few hours, though, those who trained in the morning at Snowdin will be hungry, and the least he could do is make sure there were hearty meals ready for them. Providing good food is not uselessness. He remembered his first summoner mostly using him for cooking once Grillby showed an interest in it. There are more uses for him than war, he will just have to prove that to others and himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What better way to celebrate the 4th of July than posting a story about fire. XD

**Author's Note:**

> Were there any scenes you were interested in knowing more about? Go ahead and comment about them and, if I get time, I may write it.


End file.
